With Dad, By Dean
by Evanna Adams
Summary: Hunts with John Winchester through the eyes of his eldest son, Dean Winchester and meeting the love of his life.
1. Chapter 1

Athens, Ohio

Dad and I were just returning from Utah after burning the bones of an old man who had taken to serial killing in his elder years. His vengeful spirit had returned to haunt buildings of his victims and was actively killing again.

I was leaning in my seat in the '67 Impala and trying to fall asleep but I just could not. I looked out the window but had to close my dry eyes to the wind that met them. I blinked, rubbed my eyes and looked out again. A bunch of motels, bars and family restaurants were sprinkled here and there on the way. These were interspersed by large expanses of green fields.

The sights being low on scenery, I picked up the box of cassettes lying at my feet. I sorted through them, looking for Metallica. I selected one but before I could insert it, dad shook his head. I sighed and returned the cassette and box to their original place.

It was an unsaid rule: Shotgun shuts his piehole, as my dad had put it, very poetically, in my childhood. He hated music and I loved it. Therefore, it was for me to guess that mom must have loved music too.

I did not want to admit but my nightmares were back. It had been three months since dad's last visit to Stanford to check on Sammy. Whenever I did not know how Sammy was, my nightmares of the Shtriga hovering over him returned. His little body and pale face under the black robed creature sucking on his life force. He would not have been alive if it had not been for dad's strategic return. I did not talk to dad about this. We had never talked about it after that day and I knew that he could see how strictly I followed his orders after that.

"Can't sleep?" Dad asked.

I looked over at him and shook my head.

"Drive then, would you, Dean?" he said, looking at me with one eye, having trouble waking up.

"Yes, sir," I said, sitting up straight as dad pulled to a side.

After changing positions, I turned the key in the ignition and accelerated. I loved to hear the soft purr of the Impala. When my dad was not around, I dared to call it my baby.

Dad fell asleep in a few minutes. I put on the music, Metallica.


	2. Chapter 2

Athens, Ohio

One Week Prior

Keith Smith decided to go out for a drink that night. It was unlike every other night when he returned home after work at the docks, exhausted and just in dire need of food and sleep. His wife, Anna, often worried about this schedule of his. She wished he would be more social and try to spend more time with her but she didn't complain for she knew that this was the only way they could make their ends meet.

"Hey, Ann," Keith said into the phone. "I'm going to the Founders for a drink with Johnson and Andrews. Try to join us if you can. Love you sweetheart!"

He hung up and looked at the sign with the name of the pub, glinting evilly as if it knew what exactly was happening.

Keith breathed deeply. It felt like a whole new being just to enter into the musty pub smelling of sweat, beer and complaints all brought to life through a few drinks. The bartender was flashing behind the counter taking orders and trying to add a little bit zing by flairing Brian Flannagan style.

It was weird that, since a few days, no matter how much Keith worked, he was never tired. He felt different too. As if, his life was clearer somehow. Put into perspective. He felt every touch, heard every word more surreal than ever before. He did not know why he felt that way. There was something about this feeling that told him he should be scared but he shook off that feeling.

He remembered the night prior to feeling this way. He had a dream so real that it took time for it to sink in that it was, afterall, just a dream. The window had opened of its own accord while he slept. A black smoky haze entered inside and went right into him.

He crackled his neck once and then went on to sit with Matt Johnson and Gerard Andrews.

"Three beers," Andrews said to the bartender.

With three beers in front of them in split seconds, they began to talk. They laughed uproariously till the bar was close to empty.

"Hey, hey, Jim! Come on man! Fifteen minutes more before last call!" Matt said to the exasperated bartender.

"Matt, you said the same thing an hour ago. Please I have to get home to my wife," Jim said, firmly reaching out for the bell to warn the drunkards in the corners.

Before Jim could strike the bell, the door opened and a dark man entered. He was wearing a black formal suit unlike the people who usually haunted the place.

Matt and Gerard rubbed their eyes to look clearly as to who it was. Keith was already on his knees in front of the man.

"My Lord, how can I be of service to you?" Keith said in a crackling, husky voice.

"Get up, my son," the dark man said, gently lifting Keith up by his shoulders.

"Keith, what the hell dude?" Matt said, drunkenly.

The dark man's eyes shone yellow for a minute and he smiled at Keith, knowingly.

Keith got up as if in a trance, picked up a beer bottle off the counter, broke it and stabbed Matt.

"Son, I don't think we want eye witnesses," the dark man said, smilingly.

Gerard, Jim and a couple more people, revealing themselves from behind the veil of darkness, looked terrified at Keith and tried to make a run for it. The dark man was faster and, with a flick of his hand, he shut the doors and windows.

Next, all the drunken men, outside, heard were screams of agony and saw as the street lights flickered.

A pale-faced little boy lay horizontally on the bed with his sheets disturbed around him. A black robed thing stood over the boy's face sucking something blue from about him, making the boy's face look hazy. It chilled Dean to the bone.

He knew what to do. He had been told enough times. He picked up the gun from behind the door but before he could shoot at the monster, his father returned.

"Dean where were you?" John Winchester shouted, grabbing his younger son and holding him tight.

There was a buzz in Dean's ears. Where was he? What had he been doing? Leaving Sammy alone like that? Was really going more important than his little brother especially when he had the orders to stay?

"Dean, Dean!" he heard John say but his lips were not moving. He just looked at his son, disappointed.

Dean was suddenly pulled away as if through a long tube. Sunlight was pouring from the right and a dark shadow stood over him, calling his name.

"Son, wake up!" John said, shaking Dean, exasperatedly.

"Huh?" Dean murmured, huskily, waking up.

He was back in the present, safe from the past. He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"I found out just this morning that a woman was strangled by the curtains of her own house. Of course, the police are calling it a suicide but we know better. No harm in checking it out," John rambled, handing Dean a steaming cup of coffee.

"But dad I thought we already had a case, seeing we reached here yesterday," Dean said, groggily, sipping the coffee.

"Uh, well," John hesitated. "Um… I, I checked it out and it was nothing."

Dean's brow furrowed but he did not say anything because he knew he would get no answers. He moodily sipped his coffee and thought about the last time his dad had been entirely truthful with him. He figured that there had been no such time that he could recall. It was either out of his sons' safety in mind or just the general veil of mystery that surrounded him.

"So you comin' or not?" John asked, already at the door with his satchel, keys and his trusty diary.

"Dear diary," Dean scoffed under his breath, getting off the bed, the coffee still warm in his hands.


	3. Chapter 3

Athens, Ohio

Dean and John stood outside a house, while the police carted away a man who had confessed to kill the woman, his wife, by strangling her with the curtains. He had come clean this morning.

"Talk about confessing," Dean said, shrugging and opening the door of the Impala but John put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "What? You think there's more to this?"

"I did some digging around before you woke up. The couple was happy, Dean. They had been married three months ago," John said, frowning. "Something seems off."

Both of them stared at the car receding in the distance, then sharing a look, both instantly took went towards the house. John picked the lock and entered.

It was as if a hurricane had hit the house, leaving the structure safe but destroying everything else. The furniture was upturned; some of it broken and glass covered the floor, glinting. John ducked down to pick a picture of a man and a woman in wedding attire, kissing. He shared a look with Dean.

"The picture is wet," John said, dropping it to the floor.

"So what? Plumbing problem?" Dean asked, confused.

John sighed and started to walk to the other room.

"Dean, I'm guessing here that the man held it and cried because this morning I checked, the house wasn't wrecked," he said, pausing to look at his son.

"Wait! You came here in the morning?" Dean asked, following him.

"Yes, I thought I'd see it before I woke you up!"

Dean frowned but didn't say anything, rather he picked up a crushed flower.

"Dad," he said, holding the flower up.

"Hyacinth? Good, son! Paying attention to the Horticulture class I've been sending you to!" John said, sarcastically turning back to the drawing he was looking into.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Dad, there aren't any of these flowers around the room!"

John looked around again and, this time, he walked over to Dean. He took the hyacinth and looked curiously.

"So do you know yet what it is?" Dean asked as John turned around, still looking at the flower.

"I have a theory," he said, looking over his shoulder. "Son, you mind checking up hyacinths in some library for me?"

"Sure! Can I take the Impala?"

"Yeah," John murmured, absentmindedly.

Dean punched the air, silently and caught the keys that John threw to him.

Dean shut the door of the car and looked at the awe-inspiring campus of the Ohio University.

"Oh, baby! This is so not my scene," he murmured to the Impala, turning his back to the University.

He entered the huge library and whistled lowly looking at the numerous shelves full of books.

"Where do I even start?" Dean whispered to himself, regretting agreeing to this.

He randomly picked the fourth row and entered. The rows were interceded by a bunch of tables, sprinkled with students, reading quietly.

"Hey, you need help? You look lost," a pretty girl said, reading a huge volume said.

"Uh, hey," Dean said, putting on his charming smile. "Uh, yeah! I actually do need help."

She laughed lightly.

"Save it for someone else, puppy face," she said, rolling her eyes and getting up. "So what do you need?"

"Eh, hyacinths! I mean Greek mythology," he said, still turning 'puppy face' repeatedly in his head.

She led him to a row with the header 'Greek Mythology'.

"By the way, I'm Dean Moore," he said, still smiling that smile. "I'd like-"

The number of rows that were under the header shut him up, maybe for good.

She looked at him and snorted.

"What do you want exactly?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"Uh… Stuff about Hyacinth!" he said, looking at her.

She went to look at a shelf. He followed, standing awkwardly behind her.

"I'm Cassie Robinson, by the way, and you can't have my number," she said, handing him two thick books and walking away to her spot.

He looked at her go. Her hard-to-get strategy had worked on him.

He sat down opposite her. She smiled, slyly.

"You won't leave me alone, right?" she asked, eyeing him.

"Me? Stalking you? Not at all! Just making sure you reached to your seat fine," he said, brushing her comment away and opening the book.

She raised a single eyebrow and when he smiled innocently, she turned back to her book.

He turned her attention back to the book.

"Hey, Em. Library. No! What? Alright, alright!" Cassie whispered, frantically into her phone and hung up.

"Problem?" Dean asked.

"Just my friend, inviting me to a bar to act as a wing-woman," she said, gruffly.

"Would you like a date on your shoulder then?" he asked, not expecting a positive response.

She shut her flip phone, thoughtfully.

"Hmm… I think I would like that. Be in the Red Fallon at eight," she said getting up, taking her books with her.


	4. Chapter 4

Athens, Ohio

Dean walked out of the library with a paper in hand. He had jotted down a few interesting points about hyacinths.

He fished out his mobile from his pocket and was about to call his dad when 'Crossroad Blues' started to play on his phone. It was his dad.

"Hey, dad," he began. "So, I found some-"

"Dean, I found the thing and killed it with Bobby's help," John intercepted. "I'm taking the Impala. I believe I found something and I'll call you in a while. Bye."

"Dad, dad! Wait! What was it?" Dean cried but the John had already hung up the phone.

"Damn it!" Dean shouted, hitting the tire of a nearby car.

The car alarm started to sound.

Dean rolled his eyes and, hitting the car's hood, he made a run for it.

Only after reaching the motel and settling down with an ice-cold beer, did he realize that maybe this was for the best. He would get to go out with Cassie Robinson. This brought a smile to his face.

Dean parked his rental Volvo outside the Red Fallon at a quarter past eight.

As he got out, he noticed a pair of beautiful girls make their way into the bar, giggling. He smiled to himself. He was going to enjoy this. Neck deep in hot girls, perfect night!

He entered, looking for dark hair. He was right. The bar was full of girls and men trying to hit on them. There were your usual morose looking corporate, drinking like it was their last day on earth and the group of men sporting sports gear, their eyes fixed on the little television and screaming, unannounced.

He spotted Cassie at the side of the counter sitting with a couple and drinking beer. She was rocking an amazing red halter.

Dean put his game face on and went to stand beside her.

"Hey," Cassie said, looking relieved.

"William, Rosie, this is Dean. Dean, this is Will and Rosie," Cassie said, gesturing towards the couple.

The woman was the obvious sort of hot wearing a promiscuous tiger print dress and the man was wearing jeans with a flower print shirt.

"Hi," Rosie said in what she thought was a sexy way.

Will looked like someone had punched him in the face. Dean understood that he intimidated Will. He smiled to himself at that.

Dean turned to Cassie who was smiling at him but she quickly turned to Rosie.

The night was not going well and Cassie saw that Dean was distracted by the fluttering barmaids who asked him if he wanted a refill, every few minutes. Cassie could not blame him; Rosie and Will were boring company. Rosie was trying to impress Dean and Will was trying to impress Rosie, no one was getting anywhere.

"Rosie," Cassie said, a little loudly when Rosie paused for a split second. "Dean and I should be heading out. We have to make a stop."

Dean got the point.

"Yeah, yeah, totally. Really, really important work," Dean said, smiling and nodding.

"Where?" Rosie said, looking unhappy. "I'm sure Dean can wait here while Cassie, you can make the stop."

Cassie and Dean shared a look.

"No! No, uh, we," Dean said, slowly turning to look at Rosie. "Uh, we have to do it together. It's uh- it's for-" he stopped, biting his lower lip and pointing with both hands towards Cassie.

"For my article piece," Cassie made up, quickly. "We need to –uh- visit-"

"The library," Dean completed.

Will and Rosie stared at them, not buying their story.

"Bye," Cassie said, avoiding any further conversation and pulling Dean with her.

Dean waved over his shoulder.

"Dean, Dean, call me," Rosie shouted, across the bar. "Cassie has my number!"

Dean gave her the thumbs-up and exited.

"So," Cassie asked, walking with Dean. "Had fun tonight."

"If you call a double date with a flirting girl and her jealous boyfriend, fun, then, yeah, it was fun," Dean said, smiling at her.

Cassie laughed.

She stopped beside a silver Prius.

"Well, this is me," she said, turning to smile at Dean.

Dean leaned in and kissed her, which soon turned into a passionate kiss.

Cassie put her hands on his chest and pulled away. She smiled at his confused expression.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said, pointedly and handed him a piece of paper from her purse.

He took the paper and opened the door of the car for her.

As she drove away, Dean looked at the paper and saw a mobile number. He smiled to himself.


	5. Chapter 5

Athens, Ohio

Dean woke up in the musty motel room and looked at the time. It was eight o'clock. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. He took off his shirt; it was hot.

As he stood brushing his teeth over the blackened sink, he thought about Cassie and everything he knew about her. She was doing Journalism majors at the Ohio University and lived with her roommate, Rosie, in the hostel. She was the editor of the University magazine and assistant Librarian. She was smart and beautiful.

Dean gave a toothpaste-lather grin to the mirror before washing himself up and heading out for breakfast.

As he sat in his car munching on a burger, he called Cassie. She cancelled the call.

In a few minutes, he got a text saying: "In class. Meet in library at 5."

"The good times," he said to himself, grinning and pulling the car away.

He reached back in the motel and settled down on the table to read the day's newspaper.

He scanned the newspaper for anything weird. Except a man missing and a new car going berserk, he found nothing worth following. He ruled out the man going missing as chance and the car, as manufacturing defects. He was not sure whether to be relieved or depressed.

At six, he stood at the entrance of the library trying to imagine what Sam must be up to.

The library was just as intimidating as the last time but this time he knew exactly what he was looking for. He retraced his steps to where he had seen her last time. Cassie stood with a cart full of books, returning the books to their places.

"Hey," Dean said, softly, going to stand beside her.

She smiled at him. "Hi."

"When'll you be free?"

"It will take time," she replied, sighing.

"I'll help you," he said, picking up a book randomly and putting it in a vacant space.

She laughed softly. "No, stupid! It won't go there," she whispered, pulling the book out and hitting his shoulder with it. "Go sit and wait for me."

He laughed and settled down.

Two hours later, they were at the Red Fallon. This time they picked the darkest corner away from the hubbub.

"So, Dean, tell me about yourself," Cassie said, sipping her beer.

"My dad and I are mechanics. We restore antiques," he recited.

"You told Rosie the same thing yesterday! I know that! Tell me more!"

"Well, that's all really. We are always on the road. Dad owns this amazing '67 Impala. I have a younger brother, Sam who is in college. Stanford," he said.

"Oh! You must be proud of him," she said.

Dean had never thought about this before. He was mostly worried about his well-being and always reminded of the fight between his dad and Sam followed by John's state later. John did not talk much, not that he had before but had always tended to take more of an interest in Sam's education than Dean's. Dean guessed that it was because Dean was a good soldier and better on the field and Sam was better at planning and mythology expert.

But, damn, Dean was proud of his brother, he realized. He was really proud of that nerd.

"Yes," he said with a smile.

Cassie smiled back, warmly.

Dean loved her smile. He had never been on a second date with a girl, except in high school where girl's tended to have more virtues than the one's he met now at bars. However, Cassie was different. She demanded respect and he liked that about her. He wanted to take her on a second date and on a third and more. He was not sure what it would amount to, seeing what his real job was. That could wait. Right now, he was having the time of his life with the girl of his dreams.

"What about your mom?" Cassie asked, biting on a french fry off Dean's plate. She had ordered just a beer.

"Uh, well, she died in a house fire when I was four," Dean said, looking at his plate.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Dean," she said, putting her hand over his.

"It's alright," he said with a small smile. "It was a long time ago."

He did not believe that it was a long time ago. For him, it was yesterday. He could see it still, before his eyes, happening in fresh detail. He hated going back and yet, his brain always reminded him of the bad memories. Mary's death, John shooting a shape shifter, Daniel Elkins and John interrogating a demon with holy water, the Shtriga hovering over Sam…

"Must have been hard," Cassie said, gently pressing his hand.

He pulled away his hand. He could not get into that. It was too deep.

"It was for a while," Dean answered, biting into his burger to avoid further interrogation.

Cassie got the hint.

They fell into an awkward silence, each trying not to catch the other's eyes. Dean hogged down his burger, nervously.

"Uhm, a guy at my college went missing, by the way," Cassie said, obviously trying to fill the awkward silence.

"Oh, really? How? Does anyone know?" Dean asked, his ears literally pricked up.

Cassie's eyebrows rose confused by his sudden sincere curiosity.

"Well, he is two years senior to me. Blake Gage. He is a quiet person. Always found him at the end of the library, reading books and researching things. He is top of year," Cassie drawled.

"Blake…" Dean murmured, his brow furrowing and then it hit him.

He had read the same name in the newspaper this morning.

Cassie turned around in front of the driver door of the car and smiled at Dean. He rested his palms on the cold top of the Prius and kissed her. Cassie's arms slowly entwined around Dean's neck.

As the kiss grew more passionate, Dean's hands looked for the handle of the back seat door.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to one of ny best friends and a person with hugest heart! I give you *drum roll* Maknatuna! She writes the most amazing fanfics! Do check them out and review! =D**

**And thank you everyone for the alerts! I love you! ;)**

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Athens, Ohio

Dean was running fast through a forest. There was something after him, something evil. He did not know what but it was catching up and he knew it was more than capable of killing him. He ran his hands all over his leather jacket and denims again but he had surely left his shotgun behind and he had no other weapon on him.

Dean tried to think back. Where had he left his car? When had he started hunting this? However, he could not remember. He believed the creature was the reason behind his amnesia.

He caught a glimpse of light through the trees. Jumping over a brush, he lengthened his stride towards the light. He saw a cabin. Believing he would find help there, though he was not sure how he knew, he ran through the door, which was open.

What he saw next, he could not believe. A blonde haired boy with a freckled face stood with his shotgun aimed at something. The boy did not spare Dean any focus and continued to aim. Dean moved forwards, slowly, he knew where he was. Moving to stand behind the boy, Dean looked inside. A little boy was in the arms of a cloaked figure that seemed to be sucking life out of the little boy. The first boy was not moving to help the little one but Dean did not push because he remembered exactly what happened next. A man brusquely pushed Dean out of the way and shot the cloaked figure.

Bright light shone from their right and Dean could not see anything anymore. He groped through the air but could not feel anything.

He woke up with a start. He was drenched in sweat. Sitting up quickly, he took an account of his surroundings breathing deeply.

Musty hotel room, tidy just as Sam would like it, disturbed bed sheets with Cassie lying beside Dean and the curtains to his right drawn apart revealing the bright sunlight. He looked at Cassie's sleeping form. Running a hand through his hair, he got up to get dressed.

Finding Cassie still asleep, he left to get breakfast. He found the best rolls he could find and returned to the motel.

When he returned, he found Cassie sitting at the table, reading a newspaper.

"Hey," Dean said putting the breakfast in front of her and kissing the top of her head.

She tilted her head backwards to smile at him.

"Hello," she said, softly. He noticed that there were tear tracks on her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sitting down beside her, worried.

"William Harold, Rosie's boyfriend, has been reported missing," she said softly, gesturing at the newspaper.

Dean gathered her in his arms and took the newspaper from her.

William had been out since evening, his dad reported. He had been alone as far as his family knew but they could not locate him by yesterday afternoon. That is when it got suspicious. The police found his abandoned cell phone behind his favorite haunts, The Red Fallon.

Dean was a little shaken. This was the first time he had met the victim. He stared ahead, chewing the facts and trying to make some sense of it. He went through the report again.

Dean stood up suddenly almost making Cassie topple backwards but he caught her. Helping her upright in her chair, he murmured a lame excuse and left the room.

~*~

Dean stared at the hubbub of police officers staking the area. A yellow tape had cordoned off the area.

He moved uncomfortably, itching in his cheap suit. It had been four hours since he had abandoned Cassie in the motel. Hearing a muffled beep, he fished in his pocket for his phone, instantly regretting it as his exposed flesh got scraped against the horrible cloth of the suit.

It was a message from Cassie asking if he was okay. He assumed she had left for college. He replied, apologizing for his morning behavior and promising that he would make up for it tonight. He even added a cheeky emoticon to seal the deal.

Half an hour ago, his radio tuned into the police frequency had tipped him off about a body that had been found deserted in the alleyway behind a local store. It was suspected that it was the body of the missing boy, Blake Gage. So now here he was, standing in his itchy suit under the bright sunlight, resisting entry into the crowded area beyond the yellow tape.

He could smell the decomposing flesh as two men carried a body covered in white cloth, which was already dirt-ridden and soaked in blood.

The two placed the body in the paramedic van.

"Hey," Dean said, heading towards the men and flashing his FBI badge at them.

The men jolted upright and moved out of the way, letting Dean see the body. Gingerly, Dean removed the cloth off the body and grimaced as the smell hit him. He realized that he would never ever get used to this smell, no matter how many bodies he encountered in his life, nothing would make this easy.

Pinching his nose with two fingers, he looked at the corpse. The body bore bruises and gashes. His wrist and ankles showed signs of bondage. His muzzle was scraped as if he had been gagged but the most sickening was the side of his throat that had marks akin to a vampire bite. The side of his neck was still covered in blackened blood in contrast to his bloodless, pale skin. Breathing from his mouth, he could taste the blood.

Sickened, he shut his mouth and opened his nose, which turned out to be a bad decision. The smell of the decaying corpse and blood hit him in thick waves. Deciding he had seen enough of the corpse of the poor bastard, he walked away.

Dean noticed two cops heading out of the cordoned area.

"Morning," he said in a commanding voice, flashing his badge.

He saw the two stiffen.

"We didn't know this was a federal case," the short one said in a tinny voice.

"Well it is, Mulder," Dean barked. "Now tell me about the crime scene. Any anomalies."

The two policemen exchanged glances.

"We'all agree that it was an animal attack but there wasn' anythin' else to prove our theory, 'round the dumpster," the taller one said in a thick southern accent.

"And he went missing from behind The Red Fallon?" Dean asked.

The two nodded.

"Thank you," Dean murmured, turning around in deep thought.

Two men around the ages of twenty had gone missing from behind a bar. One of them was dead. It seemed pretty clear to Dean as to what could have caused this.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: This is dedicated to all my Twitter friends for being so awesome and lovely and amazing! I love them all! **

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Athens, Ohio

Dean Winchester didn't believe in vampires. He laughed at all the movies claiming vampires were real. His favorite movie to make fun of was Twilight. Even if, by any chance, vampires were real, Dean was sure they wouldn't sparkle and own Volvos. When Sammy was young and had trouble sleeping, John would tell him about the exploits of Daniel Elkins, the man who supposedly dedicated his life to wiping out all of the vampires. Good man, Dean used to think but he was nothing more than a legend because Dean Winchester didn't believe in vampires, especially not sissy ones.

But all the evidence pointed to the contrary. Blake Gage was bit on the side of the neck. Dean had even, dressed as a doctor, asked the morgue attendant about Gage's injuries. He noticed though, that the bite mark was covered with white foam like mixture which kept reappearing no matter how many times it was wiped. When he was flirtatious enough, she had even indulged the information that everyone on the team thought that it was the work of a vampire.

"Like Edward," she had said, her eyes glistening over for a moment.

Dean returned her grin.

The day after Dean had checked the body twice, he decided to call his dad.

"This is Gary Fallon. Please leave a message after the beep. If it urgent, please call my son-" Dean cancelled the call, huffing.

He bit his lip. There was only one man who could help him now and Dean knew he'd pick up the phone because Bobby always did. Most of the weeks, Dean talked more to Bobby than John even if John and he had been travelling together. It's not that Dean didn't like talking to the man but he was closed off and far away. Dean still held on to the precious memories from the night before his mom was killed. John used to be a carefree man and a loving father. Dean and he would go fishing and trekking instead of target practice. All John was driven by now was the lust for revenge. Sometimes Dean feared that John would lose his mind over this. He understood his need but sometimes the pressure got too much and he felt like he'd snap. John loved his sons so much that he kept check on one of them even though he had run away to Stanford and didn't risk taking the elder one to hunt YED. He let Dean hunt the 'minor' issues. Sometimes, it pissed Dean off while other times he was thankful.

"Hey, Bobby," Dean said, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Idjit," came the reply.

Dean laughed.

"Hey, so, I'm in Ohio and there's been a death. It was a kid. Around twenty. And there were bite marks on his neck," Dean told him, getting right to the point.

"Could be a million things with teeth, Dean," Bobby said, irritated. "Mind narrowing it down?"

"Uh, well, it was oozing some kind of white foam but he seemed like he could have been dead for a day by the time I saw it," Dean told him.

Dean heard some riffling of papers on the other end. He could almost hear the engines of Bobby's brain whirring.

"I think it's a Vetala," Bobby announced. "They are from the Hindu mythology. They're like Rakshasas… Hindus believed that they inhabit old trees or something of that sort… They look like humans and have snake like features when they feed on blood… Their blood contains venom that decapitates humans... They can only be killed with a silver knife to the heart," he recited.

"Okay, thanks, Bobby," Dean said.

"Ask around about where they were seen last and with whom. Also, call your dad. He hunted a Vetala once. Be careful, son," Bobby told him, before hanging up.

It had been almost eight years since Dean started taking hunting trips on his own but Bobby never stopped worrying. Trying his father's number again and failing, Dean returned to the motel room, exhausted.

There was a knock on the door.

Dean got up sluggishly, putting his laptop to a side.

He grumbled, seeing there was no peep hole on the door. Cheap motels had their disadvantages. He took his jacket off the back of the chair and put a hand inside his pocked, clutching the gun.

He opened the door. All he saw was a body with a lot of hair, coming towards him. He moved out of the way. He had developed fast reflexes. Lashing out his gun, he held it out at the now swinging door.

A hand opened the door and Dean saw Cassie behind it, looking terrified. Dean realized he was pointing his gun at her. He quickly dropped it into his pocket. Cassie gulped and started to back away.

She was running by the time Dean gathered his wits and started to follow.

"Cassie!" he cried. "CASSIE! Please listen to me."

A number of doors revealing different angry faces, some naked and sweaty while others were tired and frustrated.

He jumped down the flight of stairs and caught Cassie three levels down. God, she was fast.

"Cassie," he said, cornering her.

She started to fight tooth and nail, as he grabbed her arm to still her. He put a hand over her mouth as she tried to scream.

"Cassie! Cassie, please," he said, turning his head so that she didn't hurt his face.

They stayed like that for a few minutes before Cassie realized that he wasn't fighting back. She stopped struggling.

Dean looked at her. Her eyes showed raw fear but her stance was defiant. He knew she wouldn't go down without a fight.

"You won't scream? Just hear me out," he asked.

She stared back, neither nodding nor shaking her head. He gritted his teeth and released her arm. One-handedly he started to take off his jacket and threw it to a side.

"Look at me. I have no weapons," he said, taking her hand and putting it on her jeans pocket.

She put both hands on his jeans and started to check. In spite of himself, he smirked as her hands started to move around his butt.

She gave him a look which wiped off his smirk. Using her foot, she checked his socks for any weapons. When she was sure that he was clean, she nodded slowly.

He sighed and took the hand, off of her mouth.

"I want an explanation," she said, softly but dangerously. She folded her arms for good measure.

"I spend my life living in cheap motels. They aren't safe," he said convincingly.

Well it was the truth…

She seemed to believe him. But she seemed to be moving towards the stairs.

"Cassie, please don't go," he said, softly. "Why did you come?" he added, trying to stall her.

"To see you. I was going to kiss you when you pointed the gun at me," she said, staring at the floor.

Dean shut up, looking guilty.

"Where were you since morning? I thought you'd come pick me at six," she murmured, trying to keep the accusations out of her voice.

"I had… To collect some remains of a Chevelle," he said, making it up. "Dad called. It was urgent and it took all day. I had to fly them from here to dad."

She looked at him, her eyes flashing a number of emotions.

He took a step towards her. She didn't move. He took strength in that and covered the last few inches between them. He came down upon her, kissing her. She kissed him back but before he could lift her and take her back to the room, she pushed him away and ran down the stairs murmuring an apology.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

When he returned to his room, his phone was ringing. He lunged at it to see whether it was Cassie. If there was disappointment when he realized it wasn't her, it vanished when he realized that it was really his dad.

"Hallelujah," he whispered, before snapping open the phone. "Hello dad? Are you alright?"

"Dean," his father said urgently. "I just saw your calls. Yes, son, I'm fine. Are you?"

"Yes, sir," he said, relieved that John was fine. "I am hunting a Vetala."

"Where are you?"

"Ohio."

"I thought you'd have gone by now. Case caught your eye?"

"Yes." Among other things.

"They are vicious creatures, Dean. They have super-human strength and their venom can sedate their victim. A silver knife through the heart will do the job," John recited.

Somehow, it made Dean angry that John knew all this like the back of his hand. Any creature! You name it and the man had its powers and weaknesses at the tip of his tongue.

"Yes, sir. Any leads on your side?"

They never took YED's name. It was an unspoken rule.

"No, son. Be careful," he said, hanging up before Dean could say anymore.

For the second time in fifteen minutes, Dean sighed. He sank on his bed and called Cassie.

She wouldn't pick up. He persisted for at least five minutes before giving up. He ran a hand over his face.

"I'm sorry," he typed, added Cassie, and clicked send before he could change his mind.

What was going on? When had he started to care for a girl so much?


	8. Chapter 8

Athens, Ohio

"Cassie… I'm so sorry. That gun was for drug dealers and that sort of people who roam around in motels… No, actually, they are for monsters like werewolves and all. I have a bag with different weapons for each. Also I made the gun," Dean said, staring at his reflection in the dirty motel mirror, smirking.

He ran a hand over his face. This wasn't going as planned.

At seven in the morning, Dean woke up and changed his motel because this motel didn't have peepholes on the door. What had Cassie done to Dean? Dean loved frisky women he picked up at bars. The ones who smelled like booze and didn't expect a call the next day, not smart, funny, amazing… Oh God, he was turning into a girl. He looked down, opening his sweats slightly. Manhood, check.

"Cassie," he started again. Oh God, this was ridiculous. "Look, you have seen the kind of people who hang around these motels. This gun is just for that. To protect myself… I don't expect you to understand… But I hope that you do and that you forgive me."

Wow… That sounded alright. Maybe Sam's sensitivity had poured into him. He _hoped_ right now that it had. Oh, no…

At nine, he stood waiting for a Prius to turn up in front of Block A of the Ohio University. He tapped his fingers, idly, on the hood of the rental. He hoped that she'd listen to him at least.

He saw a Prius pull up and a sleep-deprived Cassie get out of it.

Dean almost ran to her.

"Cassie! Drug dealers! People around motels…" he said, lamely.

Cassie turned to look at him. Her eyes widened.

"I needed to protect mys-"

But before he could complete his scripted speech, which he had screwed up, Cassie tip-toed and kissed him.

"I'll take that as forgiveness," Dean said, softly.

"Dean," she said, softly.

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

He laughed as they kissed again.

It had to be the Red Fallon. Dean was convinced. The Vetala had to be picking up its victims from there. All he had to figure out now was how to get his plan in place. He had spent the morning studying the victim profiles and visiting the Gage family. Bernard and Jamie Gage were distraught and wanted Pastor Dean to bless their family which Pastor Dean did.

At lunch, he took Cassie and a disheveled Rosie to a diner close by. Cassie was surprised when he asked Rosie to accompany them. However he had an ulterior motive. He was going to, casually, interrogate her about William. Though that earned him a sob from Rosie and a glare from Cassie.

He decided to take a trip that night to The Red Fallon. Both William and Blake had disappeared around midnight. So, as sure as he was, Cassie would spend the night with him so Dean would have to make sure she was asleep by midnight and that he'd be back before she woke up. Oh, how would he ever be able to pull that one off…

At six, Dean waited outside the library for Cassie.

"Hey," he said, smiling, as she skipped down the stairs.

"Hi," she said, running into his arms and giving him a kiss. "I see you walked here."

"Well you do have the ecofriendly car and I didn't want to spend your share of fuel," he said, smirking.

She laughed, entwining her arm with his.

With Dean driving the Prius, Cassie guided them to her apartment.

As she started to play with lapels of Dean's coat, he caught her hands.

"Wait! Rosie?"

"She… Went to live with her parents. She was devastated about William," Cassie said, wistfully.

Dean pulled her close and kissed her softly but passionately. She returned it and deepened it.

Before they knew it, they were out of their clothes.

"Where are you going?" Cassie asked, blearily, pushing Dean closer to her and burying her head in his chest.

Dean grunted slightly, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Dark was pressing around him. What time was it? Hungry… Dean was hungry… Very hungry. Food… Teeth… Vampires… VETALA!

He sat up with a jerk, throwing Cassie to a side. He was doing this a lot these days. It would have been downright comical if the situation wasn't so serious.

"Sorry, Cassie," he said. "Uh, I have to-" he bent to sort through Cassie and his clothes, looking for his boxers and watch, "-go out to collect spares for a car."

"Now?" she asked, raising herself on her elbows.

"Yeah, it's, uh… Oh! It's eleven. Wow! I'm running late. You know black market stuff," he said, lamely, pulling on his boxers and jeans.

"Oh," she said, plopping back down on the pillow.

"Uh, honey, you're on my shirt," Dean said, pulling his shirt lying under her thighs.

She crossed her knees at ninety degrees for him to pick up shirt.

Buttoning his shirt, he bent and kissed her on the lips.

"Bye," she said, catching his arm as he turned to leave.

He smiled. "Bye," he said.

They did the whole softly-pulling-away-the-hand-until-the-fingers-caress-each-other routine, as if from a movie.

Hailing a cab, Dean reached the motel. He picked up his duffle, already ready near the door.

Within ten minutes of driving the rented Buick Riviera(the closest he found to the Impala), he was sitting hidden in the opposite alley. In the morning, he had come to break the sole bulb that lit this alley. To his delight, nobody had repaired it till now. _God bless America_, he thought.

It was another hour, before he saw something except hookers and teenagers doing it in the alley. It was a hooker and a middle-aged man. The man was trying to lead her away from there, probably to his car. But after making sure the surroundings were clear, the hooker bent down and unzipped the man's pants.

Dean was about to close his eyes to the live porn movie, in disgust, when the woman rose with amazing speed and hit the man around the head. The man groaned and fell in a heap.

Dean stealthily got out of the car to follow the woman taking the man away. She threw him behind the high wall of the alley as if he was weightless. She climbed the dumpster and followed.

Taking his cue, Dean followed in the hookers' footsteps.

He was keeping atleast twenty foots behind her. Bobby had told him they had super hearing and to top it all, super strength.

As swiftly and soundlessly, he could manage, he jumped over the wall. He hoped there was nothing on the other side to make a sound as he fell. Fortunately, there wasn't and he landed on all fours on the ground. He stood up and looked ahead. It was another alley way leading to more alleys at the end. It was the perfect maze. It was mildly lit.

He walked slowly with his hand clutched tightly on the silver knife. Looking down, he found a trail of blood. He started to follow it to the right alleyway. Four rights and two lefts later he stood outside a rusty door where the trail ended.

He couldn't open it without raising a racket. He needed to find another entrance. He looked around. The same type of rusty doors met his eyes. They were probably storage rooms. He looked up. If he could climb the top of the thick door pane and then raise himself through the window and the rest would have to be improvised.

But, first, he needed to check behind the back. There was a small door, which was incidentally open. He entered cautiously. There were a bunch of boxes piled up almost to the ceiling. He heard noises up front.

He walked quietly until he could hear them. It was a man and a woman.

"We have two targets from here now," the man was saying.

"Well, how long do you think they'll last, brother?"

"I'm guessing, a week at most."

"That's as long as we stay here. I heard the FBI is in town."

"Ooh, I've heard the smarter they are, the better their blood."

There were footsteps. A groan.

"There, there. Let me drink it," the man, crooned.

More groans.

Dean stood frozen behind the boxes. Vetalas hunted in pairs.


End file.
